Code name: Dark Death
by Dark Destiny
Summary: Her incomprehensible taste experience was brought to an abrupt end with the “thunk” of another Irken's tray.
1. Death of Quilux

All alone floating above a long dead world is a space station. On it work brilliant scientific minds. On it slave tortured insane minds. It was always a thin line to tread and in some cases the line vanished. These minds, sane or otherwise work non-stop to supply the Irken Empire with weaponry of the highest caliber. With the technology spawned here worlds had fallen. Life had been reinvented. If one of the inmates of this sterile secure scientific prison decided to change sides, it could mean the doom of many Irken military projects. The Irken military didn't look kindly on misplaced doom.   
  
Quilux was franticly shoving his belongings into his shrinkable suitcase. Currently the size of a bed it would shrink to the size of his palm when told to do so. He should know he invented it himself. However his mind was not on this fact, but set on the path ahead of him. Soon he would be the most wanted Irken in the empire. The high crime of treason was not taking lightly. In his business you couldn't get out unless you were dead. That wasn't good for his schedule. However he knew that he couldn't fake his way through much longer. Somehow they would know. They always knew. The daily pak scans told them more then he wanted. So far he had tricked the scans with a few old backup copies of his mind, but they knew. That is why he was sweating from every pore, his skin a several shades lighter then normal, and his eyes threatening to tear. With a groan he ran into the bathroom located only a room away. His cell had two rooms, an unheard of luxury. He threw what remained of his launch into the sink, unable to make it to the toilet. Panting with fear he wiped his mouth and groaned again. Running back into his room, he punched in the code to shrink his suitcase. It promptly shrunk to a small compressed size, easily able to fit into a pocket. He scooped it up off the floor with a spare mechanical arm, and pulled it in to his pak.   
  
Then he slowed suddenly. He bent over his cot and gingerly picked up what was too important to haphazardly throw in his pak. It was a black case about a foot across and tall. It was only a few inches wide and made of the tanned skin of an animal dyed black. That in its self was rare in a world of technological purity. Forgetting everything for a moment he sighed aloud and happily stroked the case. He hugged it to his chest and grinned. Suddenly snapping out of his reprieve, he jogged to his door and punched in the exit code. Slowly he poked his head out in to the hallway. Seeing it's all clear he allows himself another sigh, this one of relief. This area being one of the sane dormitories, the guards did not make as many rounds. Ignoring the bile rising in his throat he lunges into the hallway, clutching his prize to his frail chest. His red eyes wide with frantic blind fear he hurls himself down the hallway, barely remembering to use his mechanical legs. Making it all the way to the end, he skids to a stop at the elevator door. Nervously he frees one hand to punch in the code. His shaking claws betray him and the door beeps red at the wrongly entered password.   
  
In the grating above him his fears take material form. Like lightening the assassin bursts downward through the ceiling and with a swift powerful kick to the back of his head, downs Quilux. The well-aimed kick knocks Quilux's beloved case from his arms. It hits the metal wall of the hallway, it's metal clasps breaking with a snap. Quilux has no chance to realize the danger to his prize, his own danger a more mortal peril. The assassin straitens from a crouching position behind him with no sound. Quilux, sprawled on his face tries to get up. Dazed he wipes the blood from his mouth. Without warning the assassin strikes again grabbing him from behind. His arms flail and claw the air as his antennae are pulled painfully back and up revealing his throat. He draws in breath to scream but never gets the chance. His throat is quickly and cleanly slashed wide open. The assassins death grip is released and he drops like a sack of spare parts, his blood splashing across the hallway. He makes a few gurgling noises and twitches on the floor spreading farther the pool of his own blood. His vision darkens and he never even sees who brought his ultimate end.   
  
The assassin pauses head tilted to the side watching life quickly trickle away. Even for an Irken she seems more mechanical then living. Her height is average for an Irken not very tall or exceedingly short. Enough to gain her a good promotion or two if she was in a standard Irken profession. Her limbs are thin and wirie like most Irkens, but posses more mussel then shown at first glance. Like a doll she wares what looks to be a standard military issue uniform, such as invaders use. However, where an invader's shirt is red hers is deep blue. Not that anyone would ever comment on the difference. The rest of her outfit is also standard fare; boots gloves pants and undershirt all normal. The clothing does not hamper or improve her movement Even her pak is that of the ordinary Irken.  
  
Two things other then her shirt reveal her to not be what she seems. On her right wrist there is a gauntlet that ends just below her elbow. As she steps calmly out of the slowing path of flowing blood. She shuts off the near silent humming energy dagger, and withdraws the metal part of the blade into the hilt. She then replaces the hilt back in to its slot on the gauntlet. The hilt is one of two stored in her gauntlet. The other thing that reveals her non-normalcy is her eye color. The pitch-black orbs seem not to reflect light, but draw it in like twin black holes. She blinks slowly, her face showing no emotion. She is not pleased or distressed by her actions she just is. Slowly she turns her head scanning the hall. Her dead eyes stop finally on an anomaly. She steps over to the once precious case. Calm and calculating she shows no thoughts of the murder she has just committed. Her mission done, she does not spare a thought for the target. In fact knowledge of the target is fading from her mind, where once it overwhelmed all.  
  
The case like a gutted fish displays its innards. Rows and rows of information disks. A lifetime of priceless knowledge. She raises a boot to crush them, then pauses. Mission parameters reasserting over primal urges. Once again she tilts her head listening to inner demons. She puts a finger covered in blood to her mouth. Absentmindedly she licks the blood off, then bend over and shuts the case. She picks it up with her clean hand and stows it under her arm. With her free hand she hits a button on her gauntlet and vanishes. The progress of the station goes on aware and unhindered by the death of one of its occupants. The clean up druids with soon find him and remove any trace of his existence. The pak's shut down already distantly registered by the far off information regulation planet, in a day or so his room will be given to a new resident. Progress marches ever onward.  
  
For a change of pace I am putting my note all the way down here, so those who seek info on this strange fiction have to read it and be completely confused first. I am so cruel. As everyone, their mother, and their moose knows, I don't own Zim. Call me miss repeats the obvious. I have said it many times but I don't even own the computer I typed this on. My spelling grammar ect, is truly, utterly horrendously horrible. Yes I know I have studied the problem for years, and pronounce myself defective. (Yes I do use spell check.) Seeing that I am already aware of my shortcomings don't pour too much salt on my wounds in your reviews. . As for what this has to do with Zim.. Well the main character in this fiction is my Irken role-play avatar. The more I used her the more interesting she became. Thus this will be her back-story. No it's not a si because she is not me, I merely pretend to be her every once and a while.. I would never be so violent. I am not going to use any one else's rp characters, so it's not like I am just rewriting an old rp. This is all completely and utterly original brain spewing from me. Unless someone out there knows something I don't. In which case feel free to hunt me down and thwack me with a watermelon. The rating will remain as is due to the bloody nature of this and future chapters. I don't like the thought of small children being damaged by me... but if you think it is too low/high inform me. Not that I will change it but I will consider your well thought out arguments. 


	2. 0203667

Safely tucked In her standard issue voot cruiser she evaluated her next movements.   
  
Priority one stay hidden  
  
Priority two obey your tallest.  
  
Priority three stay alive  
  
Priority four obey your commands. Her programming rolled across her eyes. Her orders were projected there by implants. While most soldiers used computers and disks to view their orders her commands were too precious.   
  
She obeyed. With out thought with out complaint she obeyed. In this era where even standard computers had feelings, she was an improvement even over machines. The product of careful years of scientific engineering, and even more training. Ever inch of her genetic code examined and edited for maximum results. Planets had died to further her creation. The chemicals of her body and brain regulated and monitored to achieve rapt attention focus and control. While they were at it they stripped her of emotions too. A perfect soldier. Too perfect deemed unfit for normal combat due, to bad reactions from civilians. Her social skills were minimal. They reevaluated her purpose. An assassin position was more suited to the anti social warrior. Her orders were to come directly from the tallest. If not through direct contact then through an underling. After all the tallest were too busy with operation impending doom 2. They shouldn't be bothered with internal bureaucracy.  
  
Priorities one through three fulfilled she went over her commands.   
  
'Target is class green little physical threat. May have traps.'   
  
She added her own info to the report being compiled by her Pak for her superiors. 'target evaluation proved to high. Subject dna sampled and confirmed. Subject terminated. Main objective complete. Additional objective confirmed. Case containing highly sensitive data retrieved. Confirmation of legitimacy.. Not confirmed.' Her internal checklist finding a hitch she pulled a disk from the black case. It is a small black rectangle containing what would amount to endless pages of written words, if not for modern brilliance. She inserts it into her gauntlet. Through a direct feed to her pak, the information is channeled to her brain. Without the drawn out process of reading the work, her subconscious and mechanical half can find the key words and phrases that show the information is valid. Thus she begins to digest the information working at a rate of a 100 pages per second. It takes her an hour to make it halfway through. Having processed the information and tested the validity of statements with modern Irked knowledge she has found the information to be largely true. Only marginal Irken errors easily fixable by a machine. What makes her pause however is the subject matter of the disks. Her mind and pak both completely focused on their task, have found a connecting strain of data through the reports. Genetic engineering. The basic technology for Irken reproduction perfected thousands of years ago, these experiments are more to do with enhancing and strengthening Irked DNA by adding alien traits. In particular traits of aliens with natural elemental abilities. The edited version cut to raw data by her Pak is as such:  
  
The Bo' shok A race with rock like constitutions, and the ability to shape metal and control metal. They even gain energy from consuming the raw materials they draw from the earth. The Velaire, a race of wisp like creatures that can guide and control wind currents. They destroy air molecules causing a vacume to draw in surrounding air, thus creating wind. The pharexn violent creatures with blood of magma. Close combat damage is suicide. The chemical reactions in thier bodies acur at temperatures where most Irken metals melt. In lower temperatures the can create fires by burning the air it's self. The Gelaraggia a intelligent plant race with recovery powers beyond that of even the irkens. They are able to re-grow a severed limb in moments. They are also able to communicate with plants and have natural self-defensive growths. Then there was what the Irkens had to name Light creatures, due to their inability to communicate verbally. Able to see in light spectrum beyond Irkens and other creatures, looking at one while it was alive was like looking into a sun. Dead they were revealed to be intelligent crystals. Their abilities included focusing and dampening light as well as illusionary tactics more advanced then holograms. The Elels deep-sea snake creatures able to harness and control their own bioelectricity to stunning and deadly results. Intelligent and deadly. The Esa being that were completely liquid, yet somehow intelligent, maintaining this even in solid liquid and gas states. They could draw any molecules with hydragen to them selfs. Last of all the extremely different creatures, was the Dwashos. They lived in the under ground cavers of a seemingly lifeless planet. With no other species then themselves their very existence made them unusual. Irkens that came in contact with them died with out and explanation. Their hearts and minds just stopped. In a world far from the warmth of any sun, they existid. Fur Black as pitch they had no eyes yet could always sence life. If there was a shadow anywhere in their container they would escape. The only weapon that had any effect on them was light and it merely weakened them. They seemed to be living shadows.   
  
All the races were extinct now, their planets destroyed in military operations. However due to their abilities some of each had been captured for further studies in Irken labs. After the studies were completed they were destroyed. However in these data disks they lived on. The beings were brought to life by the scientist's words. If there as least one person who remembers the past it is not truly dead. Their actions and expressions their appearances and preferences, ghosts of them. All depicted in verbal detail down to the protein sequences coded in their every DNA strand. What is more she noted a great sadness shown whenever one was terminated. Not at a loss of the scientific opportunity, but at the loss of an individual being. If she could have expressed independent though she would have wondered at that. However what drew her attention was how the DNA was being used. Using certain restriction enzymes they were cutting and pasting DNA from the creatures into the chromosomes of Irken zygotes Every zygote got certain sequences, but some got more of certain kinds of DNA then others. There were 8 zygotes in total, one for each race. This still was not what interested her although it itched with remembrance. Finally the scantest got to the point where they gave the now fully formed smeets names, and began to chart their progress as intelligent beings.  
  
"The smeets are turning out beautifully, no problems in formation, and no random mutations. The eight smeets are reacting well and are having no problems adjusting to the paks. We had worries that the organic non-Irken parts might not meld with the mechanical parts, but our fears were not confirmed, I am most glad to say. The smeets are cute and full of questions. Due to the nature of their future potential, we have not bestowed the full knowledge of the Irken race upon them. Seeing that their very existence is expanding this knowledge it might cause confusion. They have all the basic knowledge of warfare and communication. We are also working on a system of communication specific to them. A neuron net link to help them meld as a squad. Individual personalities are emerging. Some of my colleges express thoughts of repressing individuality, but due to their very different nature and the fact that they are at least in part Irken the majority and I dismissed this. It will not be encouraged but it will be allowed. For official records they have been called the black deaths, due to their shared eye color. I suggested a more refined name not so to the point, but of course it wasn't as "cool". Some of my colleagues are smeetish. As for individual names we will follow precedent and name them by experiment number. 0401661 0203662 0401663 0905664 06082665 0900666 0203667 0907668."  
  
Meaningless numbers. Numbers that meant every thing to her. She was 0203667. She knew of her creation but she never knew there was anymore of her kind. Through the fog of her tightly clamped mind control curiosity strained to make its self heard. The validity of the disk was confirmed, and as long as one was real it was inefficient to examine others. It was only an optional objective. Being optional didn't mean she had a choice in its completion, it only meant that not completing it would not result in her termination. However one of her basic laws from her command center was Inaccurate. The caused her anxiety. Feeling anything was a new an intriguing experience and if she didn't have orders to not feel, she might have wanted to explore this new uncomfortable feeling.   
  
However it was fact that she was the only Black Death created. The only one to ever exist. This idea was so firmly rooted into her it was almost as important as her directives. It was a law of her existence that she was alone. The very thought of not being unique was staggering. Enough so that she actually had an emotion. Severely inefficient.  
  
Quickly she came to the most logical conclusion. Although the disks were valid, the researcher had to have been misinformed about the number of smeets. This conclusion, while false, allowed her to maintain within control of the programming installed on her pak. If she comprehended the enormity of a lie in her basic laws, it would drive her insane from the pressure of two conflicting ideas. The first fast, that her commanders lied, the second the law that commander never lied. Crisis averted she non-the less would report the error in the data to her commander upon arriving for debriefing and evaluation.   
  
Her ship communicator beeped with in coming data. She brought it on screen with a flick of her claw. It read: "Agent Dark Death the coordinates of your debriefing are as such:" It went on to list numbers and zones. She obediently punched them into her navigation computer. While her true name was 0203667 her code name was Dark Death. Although it was not valid, it made her less difficult to address, by any that disliked unirkenising numbers. She was unable to comprehend this inefficiency, and did not dwell on it. Irkens did not sleep so instead she sent he pak into a stasisp cycle. A form of down time used to conserv energy and review/repair files within her pack. No longer alive to the world she fell back into her chair, more limp lifeless then normal. Her ship silently turned to follow its new course, the stars shining silently upon it.  
  
Can you tell I passed regents biology? Actually the whole thing about taking DNA from one thing to another is a real valid practice. They use it to produce pure insulin, and have saved many diabetic lives. They also use it in our food in things such as corn and potatoes. Ya know the purple carrots in the grocery store? Well DD is a purple bioengineered Irken carrot. The sciencey junk is the other reason for the rating, mostly cause I figure 13 year olds have at least started to learn this stuff.. This chapter was mostly about explaining why she isn't a normal irken... Oh and this fic won't be a tallest basher just wait and see.. I like red and purple. They are like collage frat boys bent on universal domination. Next chapter we get back to da killin! Oh and if you read the review (the only one *hint hint nudge nudge*) by 7 I.C. 0209, she is the one i did the original rp with and has been a big help in developing DD. Also I am going to try and review each chapter and replace them with corrected ones as I discover errors (note this chapter has been edited to remove big errors. The format for it and chapter 4 onward are different because they were done on a computer that is older and not the one the first and 3 chapter were uploaded from.) 


	3. Death of commander Bob

The military base of New Samich was named by the Tallest themselves, and considered the most elite and advanced military base off of irk it 's self. And seeing that Irk's military bases were.. Currently undergoing renovations, it had become the primary launch and docking place for the armada. When the armada was docked, it became the busiest place in the empire. Of course the armada was currently off in space involved with operation impending doom 2. The base, able to hold countless people and servant races was now a mere shell of it's self. This was how the more secretive of the bases personnel preferred it.   
  
"Commander Bob we have a incoming surveillance drone from section h subsection black." Commander Bob's computer said in a respectful tone. Commander Bob tolerated no insubordination not even from the non-living. He excused himself from the staff meeting with a bow offering false niceties to the other commanders, and made his way through the compound towards where the probe would be docked. Of course what the computer was really telling him was that his assassin had docked. He relished this part his otherwise boring job. The assassin's Reports and recordings of its terminations were always enjoyable. For a brainless hunk of meat it was a remarkable good fighter. The bloodshed was always so delicious. He himself was too tall to actually be involved with such short things as personal combat. He wondered briefly if its target had put up a fight this time. The fighters always took longer to die. It, of course was not tall enough to understand the finer points of torture and always managed a clean and quick death. He sighed and typed in the code to enter its pen. The pen was actually a relatively small science lab. The room was fairly dark the only light coming from glowing computers on the left wall.   
  
The other scientists were already there, monitoring its levels and preparing to administer the necessary chemicals for proper control. After all it was not intelligent enough to be trusted with free will. It wasn't even fully Irken. It lay motionless on a lab table tucked against the right wall. Many Wires and tubes were connected to its head and pak. Its eyes were closed. Bob didn't like it's non-Irken eyes staring at him. Black was such an ugly color.   
  
"Sir the plug in has been downloaded from its pak." The scientist that handed him the wire barely withheld the sneer that went with the it. Commander Bob made a mental note to arrange a promotion for the scientist. He was both fairly tall and intelligent. Of course it was his height that gave him such. Bob didn't tollerate any sentimentality with the creature. It was a weapon a crude genetic weapon. A waste of the science that created it. He didn't resist his sneer.   
  
However he accepted the cable from the scientist and plugged it into his pak. He reviewed its mission data, disappointed that the target a class green didn't act aggressively. However he still had to watch the recording. It always downplayed the meat of the mission.   
  
As the full recording hit the commander he was immersed in the memories of the creature. It's every motion every emotion he felt and lived. Or rather it's lack of emotion. However his emotions were enough to make up for it. His laughter and comments were mental. the images were just memories temporarily downloaded into his pak to be deleted later. At least most were. One or two he kept for personal enjoyment.  
  
He sped through the entrance into the facility and it's progress to the target. He slowed and reveled in the delightful splash of blood, feeling the rich blood through it's gloved claw. He laughed with sadistic glee, as the worm of an Irken spasmed and twitched in death. The thoughtless motion of its claw dipped in blood touching its mouth allowed him the taste of the worms blood. He reveled in it backtracking and slowing the motion to explore the taste further. Through it all the fear sweat smell permeated the air. And while it didn't notice the scent he enjoyed the tangible feelings of the prey. As he ended the memory he felt a momentary sadness... that he wasn't there to cut the worm up a little more. This memory would be saved for later. He would even edit it so that the worm screamed.  
  
Coming back to the real world he unhooked the plug and asked another of the scientists for any further information.   
  
"Well sir it has information it deems is of importance, about the secondary objective." The new scientist showed her contempt for anything it would deem interesting. Bob recalled something about a case of information from the replay. It was no doubt some minor thing one of his underlings required for some experiment that would prove fruitless. However he was pleased today by its performance. He decided to humor it.  
  
0203667 Waited with concrete patience as her commander reviewed her progress. She registered that he was willing to initiate verbal contact with her this time. She felt the risings of another unknown emotion.. Pride. Confused she decided it was a side effect of lack of the nutrition supplied by her caretakers. She had gone a longer time then usual without the medication and nutrition that was supplied at debriefings.   
  
"0203667." Commander Stated in a voice she registered as belligerent.   
  
"Commander sir." Remaining motionless as the commander loomed over her she was slightly dismayed by her scratchy voice. Of course she hadn't had reason to use it in a long time.  
  
"You reported information that was of value." He stated. For the first time she noticed an edge to his voice. It was condescending. As if he viewed her as less then efficient. This caused more confusion.   
  
"Sir! I have found a significant flaw in the target's research files. Files stated more then one offspring of the Dark death project. Target was misinformed. Such lies will reduce efficiency of further research" She paused awaiting the confirmation of her beliefs in what was beyond approach. She waited almost eagerly.  
  
"I see." Bob looked down at the pathetic thing wasting a lab. He almost detected an emotion flicker across its face. Of course such a lesser being could not feel. He was more distracted by it's eyes. When talking to him it had opened it's horrible deformed eyes. Such ugly things. Of course the discovery of the other agents in control of other less able commanders warranted it's immediate termination. He almost felt regret at the loss of such entertainment. Almost. He knew however that the day of its termination was bound to occur sooner or later. It was a failure after all. He turned from its filthy eyes and motioned to a scientist.   
  
"Don't bother with the drugs. Destroy it and all traces of its body."  
  
For a moment time was frozen. In this frozen moment several things happened. The first was that 0203667's superior hearing and comprehension kicked in at the mention of termination by her commander. Keyed words from her commander were triggers to cause reactions in her brain. Termination was one of the words that put her into an attack mode that didn't stop till the target was dead. Normally the commander had no reason to speak that word in her presence but when he was to send her on a mission. With every inch of her on a fire with killing instinct the meaning of the words was instantly UN excusable clear.  
  
They were going to kill her  
  
She was going to die.  
  
The second thing to occur in the frozen moment was that she realized she desperately and deeply did not want to die. She feared death.   
  
The final occurrence was an evaluation of actions.   
  
Priority one stay hidden  
  
Priority two obey your tallest.  
  
Priority three stay alive  
  
Priority four obey your commands.  
  
This crystal clear thing that occurred at last was that 0203667 realized that priority 2 was more important then 4. They had not issued a direct from the tallest order for her to die. There for the only course of action was to stay alive. To stay hidden. Every one in the room knew of her existence and therefore would die. This was her mission.  
  
Time sped up.   
  
Lithe as a cat one blade was drawn in a sweeping motion that cut all the cables and tubes connected to her body. The sweeping motion turned into a roll that took her of the operating table. Off the operating table and with in range of the first two scientists. From the roll she had landed in a kneeling position. She pushed to a standing position with an up and forwards slash, that gutted the first scientist from groin to chin. He was dead before he could bat an eye. While bringing her slash forward across she drew her second blade. Using the motion of drawing she stabbed the next scientist in the head. His own weight pulls the energy blade through his skull as he dropped. Keeping with the forward motion she uncrossed her arms. Like scissors the blades chopped off the second to last females head. The last scientist hearing the 'thunk' of her predecessor's head turned halfway before meeting a similar fate as Quilux.  
  
Commander Bob place one claw on the first number of the code machine before he realized that he was in danger. When he turned to find out why he felt a chill down his antennae. He was surprised to view the hacked up corpses of his scientists in various poses of shock. Their last thoughts of distress and surprise were frozen on their mangled corpses. In the center of all the slaughtered was the creature. In the relative darkness of the room it could only be seen by the computer generated light reflected off it's demonic eyes and the two lowly humming ice blue energy blades. This image of death was the last he would ever behold. As it inserted one blade in his gut, and another in his eye, the pain shocked and dismayed him. As even the dim screen lights faded from his impaired vision his only regret was that he had allowed the abominations existence in the first place. He managed only to whisper with one last breath before the damage did more then blind him.  
  
"You won't ever be a real Irken."  
  
0203667 looked down at the man who had used her as a tool for much of her un-remembered existence, and although she had begun to feel, for this man she felt nothing. She shut off both daggers and replaced them in their holders. She typed in a summons to her cruiser. It would be ready to leave in the few moments it would take her to reach it. Then she activated her cloak and disappeared from sight.   
  
  
  
Do you love it? Do you hate it? I have a feeling most of you hate and are too polite to say so. . Don't spare my feelings! Can you tell I'm suffering from a lack of confidence? For the two people who have reviewed THANK YOU! She will eventually get to earth but not for a while and it's not really going to be about Zim when she gets there.. Okay I'm lying. It's about Zim but she won't meet him. She may meet some of the actual cast though. Now for the non story crud. I have been watching adult swim lately...Mostly for Trigun. FLCL is great too. I like "Ride on shooting star" by the pillows.. It's a funky song.. I don't like blue gender. everybody dies. *that's not a spoiler it's the truth.* Any who for those who care about the story and not adult swim I am not going to be posting anything next week because I'm going to camp. I figure someone out there cares and that is why I'm telling the world. Hmm does the world care.. Note to self find out...   
  
Dark Destiny, Assassin in her Tallest's service signing out *salute* 


	4. what dreams may come

Alone again. Her face reflected on the thin see through barrier between her and  
  
the stars. The cold comfort of lifeless space. Feeling came and went. So did thought.  
  
Thinking brought feeling. She didn't like that at all. For once no mission flashed across  
  
her eyes. For once she didn't feel ever nerve and sinew focused toward a goal. She felt  
  
empty. Just the fact that she felt empty scared her even more. She was after all young for  
  
an Irken, only a hundred or so, most Irkens reached their maximum height range  
  
relatively quickly, and she had already reached hers. Any more growth would take eons.   
  
She had no memories of what was before. She didn't even know who she was or is or who  
  
she could be. This loss of ever constant identity was what in truth scared her the most. So  
  
she sat motionless, knees tucked under her chin, feet perched on the edge of her seat. Her  
  
black almost empty eyes reflecting the black almost empty space.   
  
She knew her number, how could she forget it? However, she also knew  
  
one didn't name smeets numbers. So she had to have a name. Her head kept telling her  
  
that 0203667 was her true name. Nothing else. Yet her heart said dig deeper. A startling  
  
thought shoved its way in.  
  
'Irkens have names I have number. Am I really Irken? Am I really. a person?' The  
  
commander's words came up without effort.   
  
"You wont ever be a real Irken." A real Irken? Her mechanical side sufficed again with  
  
the fact that while some of her DNA was yes from other races there was enough of a  
  
majority of Irken DNA that she was for all purposes an Irken. Inside and out. The newer  
  
more perplexing emotional side argued with this.   
  
'Real Irkens Don't mindlessly kill, don't feel empty, and don't feel different.'  
  
'How can I know what real Irkens feel?' Her mechanical side argued. You could find  
  
out. stated her emotional side with enough logic that both sides were satisfied.   
  
Then camea period of no thought. These periods were cause by the drugs at last  
  
fading from a system where they had been a constant part of, this withdrawal also caused  
  
her pain and further confusion. It also left her hungry. Very hungry. She hadn't eaten in a  
  
long time, the nutrient packs that were kept in her pak for direct administration had long  
  
run dry. Priority three stay alive. This was her next clear thought. Her body was weakened  
  
now from the withdrawal. She needed some rations and quick. She also needed to learn  
  
about Real Irkens, the ones that weren't genetically engineered. She decided then the most  
  
logical thing to do would be to find a supplier planet. Supplier planets were where Irkens  
  
soldiers stopped for a meal and to get what they needed before going onwards to victory.  
  
Security was low She knew this instinctively although she couldn't remember how. It was  
  
logical after all. The only ones allowed on the planet were Irken soldiers. Why would  
  
such a planet need protection?   
  
A quick search of her nevicomp revealed one within a fairly short distance. It  
  
would be a day and a half. If she conserved energy be going into a rest cycle she could  
  
have enough strength to infiltrate a food station and more importantly find out about  
  
emotions. She had majority of Irken DNA. She was for all purposes an Irken. In her form  
  
and sprit inside and out. The newer more perplexing emotions would be explained soon  
  
enough. With this purpose held firmly she had a mission. With the thought of her tightly  
  
held mission in mind, she sent herself into her energy preserving state, and thought no  
  
more.  
  
Irkens didn't sleep. Sleep was a process used by lesser beings to conserve and  
  
restore energy needed for the chemical reactions that created movement and activity.  
  
Irkens had mechanical means to produce this energy that were so effective they could  
  
function with all of their mind power for unlimited amounts of time. They never feelt the  
  
need for sleep. In special cases where nutrients required for energy were non obtainable,  
  
Irkens could cut off some non necessary functions such as thought and limb movement.  
  
The average Irken would live an Irken lifetime without using this stasis. Irkens lived a  
  
long time. However stasis was in no means a substitute for what a human would consider  
  
sleep. The biggest difference being simple in a complex way.  
  
Dreams. Irkens did not dream. The meaning of dreams were clear to them, Irkens  
  
had studied enough lesser creatures to know the meaning. Actually they knew the several  
  
meanings for dream.  
  
"A series of images, ideas, emotions, and sensations occurring involuntarily in the mind  
  
during certain stages of sleep.   
  
A state of abstraction; a trance.   
  
A wild fancy or hope.   
  
A condition or achievement that is longed for; an aspiration."*  
  
For a people without sleep however, the meaning of the word never really sank in. Irkens  
  
were on average a logical race. The had desires, and sometimes the desires could become  
  
unrealistic or impossible, such as the Tallest's desire of Zim's death or Zim's desire to  
  
rule the planet of earth. However the situation they were involved with allowed for the  
  
extremity. Zim's pak was severely damaged, and he was a proverbial eternal unremovable  
  
thorn in the sides of both Tallest. For the most part however Irkens retained a sense of  
  
desired order. Any advances and retreats in social or material status were accounted to  
  
skill or height with a small factor of chance. They desired things, but nothing that seemed  
  
at the time impossible. The tallest desire for universal domination was within their means  
  
so it wasn't really a dream but a reality.   
  
0202667 being one of the rare Irkens who used stasis, still could not dream. She was too  
  
Irken to dream despite polluted DNA. She could not dream. She could only  
  
remember. Irkens couldn't dream they could only remember.  
  
So she remembered.   
  
"0203667!"  
  
"Yes, Sir!"  
  
She was a smeet once more.   
  
"You have failed in the task assigned to you!" The voice thundered it's impersonal  
  
raging disappointment through a loud speaker.  
  
"Yes, sir" her shrill voice more anxious then before answered. She was clothed in a one  
  
piece black body suit that covered her hands and feet. It ended just under her chin.  
  
"You comprehend the punishment that is required." Inside the clear liquid of her small  
  
holding tube she quivered with fear. Despite the conflicting emotions raging in her, she  
  
gave a clear answer her voice strong again  
  
"Yes sir!"  
  
The holding tube was in the center of a cell. There were wires running up over and across  
  
every inch of the cell. The wires formed interesting patters and distractions her smeet eyes  
  
longed to follow. However she shut them and held them tightly closed bracing for what  
  
was to come. Her antennae lay flat against her skull, and her small smeet fists tightly  
  
clenched. Her ever mussels were tensed for what was to come. It came in waves. It started  
  
from her antennae and made its way down to her toe claws. The first wave was not the  
  
most painful or the least. The initial charge of energy flayed the bare skin of her face and   
  
burned her sensitive antennae. It didn't burn them completely, that would come later.  
  
After all the point was to suffer and if they were deadened a large amount of pain  
  
wouldn't be registered. This was only the initial wave.   
  
The waves continued each one different. They were varying in length and time  
  
between contact. Some were numbing some were sharp, some burned, and some shocked.  
  
It was never mindless. Each wave was measured and placed in a pattern to extract the  
  
most reaction. She resisted it as best she could at first. holding in the screams for at least  
  
two rounds but she couldn't hold on to the screaming and sooner then later she broke. Her  
  
eyes went wide with the pain, her limbs thrashing in the liquid, hitting the tube walls with  
  
dull thunks. She opened her mouth to scream. Opening her mouth only let the wave enter  
  
her lungs to cause even more pain and damage. And she screamed. she screamed till her  
  
throat and lungs could not produce sounds or breath to make even a whisper. Still the  
  
waves came.  
  
Finally an unknown time later the waves stopped. The time was unknown because  
  
it seemed an eternity to her. Although her flailing limbs had stopped responding ages ago  
  
the still twitched and shivered. She hacked up blood from her scarred lungs and it floated  
  
up to the tubes filter. She curled into a fetal position blind and deaf from damage. Her  
  
failure to control her fear in a training mission the cause. She had acted in panic when  
  
cornered unarmed by a monster drawn from her own mind to represent a threat. Being a  
  
small smeet having only started her training she had not been able resist.  
  
The liquid in her tube served many purposes. It stopped her from doing too much  
  
unwanted damage to her self while undergoing punishment. It helped make the  
  
punishment more effective.Being a conductive substance, It amplified the electric waves.  
  
It also stopped her clothing from burning. the last use for the substance was that it carried  
  
the healing against directly to the needed places. They activated this ability and soon  
  
enough the pain subsided. Her limbs shaking did not. Irken healing tech was remarkable.  
  
In a few hours not one scar would remain to testify about the pain. no physical ones at  
  
least. Later they would go back and erase her early memories. They couldn't destroy it  
  
totally with out depriving her of the training, so they would disable normal access. Stasis  
  
shut off thought. While she remembered and relived the memory and others she could not  
  
yet communicate them to her thinking self. When she awoke she would forget she had  
  
remembered.  
  
woo back from camp to post again! I know this is two weeks late and all of my  
  
legions of fan are disappointed in my lack of punctuality *snort* aheh yea.. anywho I  
  
have an excuse. last week I had the ren fest and the Scott fest! Each is a carnival of sorts  
  
with games, booths, and food dealing with their subjects. I got all dressed up for the ren  
  
fest and was all medieval.. Boo Ya! At the Scott fest I got a shirt that says "got haggis?".  
  
So you can see why i couldn't possibly have posted last week. Yea.. This week has been  
  
the week before skool, so i have been panicking. Now for actual story stuff. for those who  
  
will ask "well what about her non numerical name Dark Destiny?". As i stated at this  
  
point she does not consider that her actual name. More on that subject next time. I had to  
  
down grade in the computer I typed this on, my brother taking his to college and all that.  
  
This mean I have a lower grade of spell check. If you find my errors too horrible to deal  
  
with you could volunteer to beta. You would get to read this story before all other human  
  
life forms 'sept me. oh joy. *poke* pass it on no pass backs! 


	5. Green goo and Razz

Time passed and 0203667 was oblivious to it. In the large expanse of space it would be  
  
rare to meet another space ship that would be hostile, non the less her ship's computer  
  
would auto start her if a ship with in hailing distance did not present an acceptable  
  
identification. However no ships passed with in haling distance and few within a  
  
registrable distance. As she drew closer to the supplier, the number of ships increases  
  
slowly but steadily. They all beamed acceptable access codes and her ship responded in  
  
kind with its own fake but undetectable codes. one of the few modifications to her  
  
standard ship was a code producer that could generate low to high level acceptable  
  
codes. When absolute stealth was required the other adaptation could be used. The high  
  
power invisibility cloak could be used for a short period of time with some strain on the  
  
ships engines.  
  
however this was not such an occasion so her ship followed the standard Irken military  
  
docking procedures pre programmed into it. The ship registered the space from it and  
  
other ships and maintained the correct distances from them. It took its place and began   
  
waiting in line for docking. The line formed a ring around the planet and from a distance  
  
resembled the spokes of a wagon weel.There were lines for cargo and materials, as well  
  
as military transports and civilian craft. They all stretched for miles. In a half-hour the  
  
ship final got to the sensor both of its line, and beamed appropriate id and licenses to it.  
  
Then it was sent down ward to one of the many square platforms floating just above the  
  
planets surface. It landed safely in a slot marked out for voot cruisers. It then began the  
  
process of waking its stasis crippled master. Stasis could be set to last a certain time by a  
  
pak, as 0203667 had done on the way to New Samich, but without this it could last  
  
indeffenatly. Normally the timeless stasis was employed if an Irken had been ejected from a  
  
destroyed ship in an escape pod, and did not know when if ever he or she would be  
  
picked up.00203667 had done this to conserve as much energy as possible allowing for delays.   
  
The only way to wake a stasis induced Irken was sharp pain. The ship sent out a  
  
thin wire tendril with a long thing dull metallic point. It touched the point to 0203667's  
  
forehead. A sharp jolt of electricity made its way down the wire and into her skull. Her  
  
eyes snapped open as she jerked her heed back. She made no sound and the wire  
  
withdrew. With a flick of her claw to her gauntlet her holographic cloak was activated. It  
  
was not as complex a change as a full body morphs or invisibility all that was different  
  
was her gauntlet was not visible, and her eyes were purple. The color of her uniform  
  
changed using its own unique technology to red. The cockpit opened and she stepped  
  
onto the pavement of the platform. Her cruiser had filled the last available spot and as  
  
soon as sensors determined she has departed the platform would decent into storage.  
  
When she wanted to depart it would be place on a platform with other departing Irken  
  
ships of its class. The cockpit closed behind her and she made her was to a transport tube.  
  
there were four at the end of the twenty shipplatform and a few other Irkens were making  
  
their way to them. 0203667 did likewise. once she got to the purple metal round capped  
  
cylinder, she stepped through the Irken sized oval and it closed behind her. She turned  
  
and punched in the location she wanted to go.Her destination was the food courts. The  
  
tube searched momentarily for the least crowded food court and then beamed her there.  
  
its job fulfilled it opened its door, waiting for the next occupant.   
  
The food courts of lesser supply planet 11202 were no match to foodcourtia, but  
  
they were of military class and better as far as nutrition went. Taste, however was another  
  
claw entirely. 0203667 stepped off the receiver pads and on to the polishes stone floor of  
  
the food court. It was large, a hundred 12 Irken tables and accompanying benches filled it.  
  
The tables were about half full, some more so then others. Some Irkens ate with their  
  
groups, others preferred solitary consumption. The pads were lined up along one wall and  
  
lines for food started from the right side of the pads to the back of the court. The room its  
  
self had a tall circular ceiling several stories high, and the two walls not covered by  
  
Reciverpads or food lines had tall windows reaching to it. Each window was rectangular  
  
having two flat sides, a flat bottom, and a halfcircul top. Yellow light streamed in to  
  
illuminate the court. 0203667 quickly acessed one of the non crowded lines, and after a  
  
few moments of waiting was presented with a tray full of various steaming food products.  
  
A quick scan with her hidden gauntlet revealed them to be non poisonous and to hold the  
  
nutrients her body required.   
  
Then came the choice of what table to sit at. There were several filled tables nearby as well   
  
as a few half filled, but at her low level of energy social interaction would have to wait.   
  
She pushed down the fear feeling that had started to rise knowing it to be inefficient. She   
  
found an open table that was further down and acquired a seat at the bench attached to it.   
  
she picked a utensil off the tray. It had a strait handle with a bowlshape depression at the   
  
end. Cut into the depression were some prongs. She used this utensil to scoop some of the   
  
green jiggly goo from the table. Mentally bracing herself she put the goo in her mouth.  
  
The result was shocking. Having been supplied nutrients directly her entire life, the  
  
situation was beyond describing. Even her new found emotions had no way to cope with  
  
it. She swallowed in surprise. Then she took a large scoop of the gray meat like  
  
substance. It was not good it was not bad it was. Her inexperienced taste senses could not  
  
even judge. Before she could sample the next substance, her incomprehensible taste  
  
experience was brought to an abrupt end with the "thunk" of another Irkens tray.   
  
He was an average soldier, his uniform the true uniform of a soldier, not requiring a  
  
hologram to be the natural red. His eyes as well were a natural crimson that sparkled with  
  
emotion. He was the same height as her, and had a grin that would have been infectious  
  
had she been able to smile with ease. However the shock she had felt must have leaked  
  
from behind the wall of her mental shield and onto her face, for the first thing he said was  
  
"It's not that bad is it?"  
  
She quickly recaptured her feelings and like a door slaming shut her face was blank. She  
  
shook her head no.  
  
"Ah well" he seemed flustered by her lack of response, and rubbed the back of his head,  
  
stubbornly keeping his grin. "I'm Razz," he extended a hand for her to shake. She just  
  
looked at it. Not fazed he quirked a non existent eyebrow and said. "Not a talkative one  
  
huh. Can I at least get your name?" She started to respond  
  
"two-" then cut her self short realizing that to say her true name would equal a failed  
  
mission. She searched franticly for a response.   
  
"I am Dark Death." her code name sprang to her lips almost as without thought as her  
  
true name. However she knew this would be just as unacceptable and slowly reached for a  
  
dagger.   
  
"A nick name from your squad huh? Yea I got one too, Doombringer. You woundn't  
  
think it from my cheerful personality but I am pretty good with a blaster." His reply  
  
caught her again off guard. He continued making up for her lack of conversation. "Yea  
  
you got that look about you. Dark Death is pretty gruesome so I'm just gonna call you  
  
Dark. k?" she nodded and was about to inquire why he was interacting with her when he  
  
again cut her off. "Anyway you looked pretty new to service, just got out of training huh?  
  
You must be good in combat if you have such a name for yourself already. Well I  
  
figured it was my job as a squad leader to make you feel more at home. Sitting all alone,  
  
you must be nervous with your own squad. You and me we are going to be friends. I'll  
  
Show you the ropes." He grinned having gained back his confidence. He seemed to have  
  
paused to give her another chance to reply and she took it.   
  
"Friends?"   
  
"Yea you guard my back I guard yours. This way we each have someone to hang around  
  
with other then our squads. Months with the same 50 Irkens can get boring pretty quick  
  
you know?"He gave her a slight punch to the arm as if to demonstrate the fact that they  
  
were now comrades. She stifled the preprogrammed response to such an action. She  
  
needed him alive to answer her questions.   
  
"You and me we are a part of the large gruff tough family of the Irken Military."   
  
"Family, what is... a family?" She inquired this question posing a blank in her knowledge.  
  
"You know, your hatch mates the ones you train with, your squad.. your family" he stated  
  
as if this was obvious. "We in the military are the protective older brothers and sisters,  
  
and the tallest are our intelligent supreme fathers. I know it sounds stupid but that's how  
  
they give to us in the training video. You gonna eat your galdorian cherry pie?"   
  
"I-"she was cut off by another Irken who tapped Razz on the shoulder.   
  
"Sir, Its time to ship out." Razz nodded his smile gone. By the time he turned it had  
  
returned this time edged with regret.   
  
"Hey I would love to chat more with you but me and my squad have to head out for  
  
turball 5. Rebel uprising." He pulled a mechanical notepad from his pak and scrawled his  
  
interstellar mail address.   
  
"Send me a message when you find your place in the family."   
  
With that he was gone, leading her feeling as if she had missed something inportant.She  
  
carefully grasped the pad and put it into her pak for later. Then she quickly finished her  
  
food in silence, returned the tray to a druid and headed towards a pad. She understood  
  
now that she was not ready for direct interaction with others as of yet. The one sidednes  
  
of her conversation with Razz was evidence of that. After singling for her ship to be  
  
placed on an outgoing pad she was beamed to it. She started it up and set it on a course  
  
away from the planet. She needed time to think about the abundance of information  
  
revealed by her "new friend" Razz.   
  
Sorry for the delay I have secured a spot on the cast of my skool play. Practice is till 5 and  
  
by the time I get home I hardly have the brain power for homework let alone creative  
  
writing. I have been actually working on several different chapters of this story at once,  
  
so i can say with a clear heart that this story will be completed. 1 out of a 100 new  
  
record!! unless of course I die unexpectedly in the up coming hurricane that may hit near  
  
my area. In that case I'm sorry you can blame the weather for a change and not my lack of  
  
Motivation. 


End file.
